OMG. I told my mom I was going to smoke pot tonight. Just casually, as if we talked about that kind of thing all the time.
It was a long day of juggling work around play and I was tired of pretending anymore. My mom has the nose of a bloodhound, so she probably already knew it’s location in the house.
Anyway, I plopped down on the couch after putting boys to bed, and she looks over her knitting and offers me tea. I said, “no thanks, I think I’m going to smoke pot instead”.
Just left it at that for a moment. Changed subject lightly. A few minutes later, I felt the need to add that I have creative concepting to do tonight and it helps.
After going upstairs to do exactly that, she and I had a nice conversation where she asked me “whatever happened with that church you we’re going to down here?”
I have to give her a lot of credit, calm as a cucumber throughout.
I’m grateful for starting to define my relationship with my mother better, at the least a more open, honest one. Not needing to be perfect around her.